


To Someday

by lasairfhiona



Series: Unlikely Alliances [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasairfhiona/pseuds/lasairfhiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set After Indiscretions</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Someday

Paris

It was early afternoon at Le Blues Bar. Joe and Amy were sitting at a small table in the middle of the room. The only other occupant, Methos, was nursing a drink at the bar.

"I thought I might give this fatherhood thing a shot," Joe said, then paused when he saw her hesitation. He didn't want to appear too pushy, too needy. It's not like he had the right to expect any kind of consideration from her. "Someday...when you're ready," he quickly added.

"Maybe," Amy stopped, started to speak, then stopped again. Joe watched her; was there more? "Goodbye, Joe," she said finally, then turned and walked away.

Joe's heart sank, "Goodbye, honey," called after her as he watched her walk out of the bar, maybe out of his life.

He'd spent the past thirty years trying not to think about the fact that he had a daughter out there. Whenever he'd had an overwhelming urge to contact her, to try and be a part of her life, he'd turned instead to his sister and her daughter. Using them as substitutes, proxies for his need for a family. It had helped him keep his sanity, but it never completely took away the need he had. The need to know her, to be somebody important to her, to make a difference in her life.

He and Amy's mother had decided a long time ago not to complicate her life or theirs by telling her about her "real" father. Would she find a need to punish him for keeping that knowledge from her?

Methos watched from the bar. He'd seen the expressions play out on Joe's face, from hopefulness to heartbreak. Grabbing a bottle of the good stuff from behind the bar and a couple of glasses, he strolled over to the table.

Joe looked up, watching as the "old man" set the bottle of scotch and the two glasses down on the table, then sat in the chair.

"She'll be back," Methos told him, confidently, as he poured.

Dawson just looked at him, not really sure if he wanted to hear his reason. "And how do you know?"

"Because I'm very old and wise," Methos quipped, watching as Joe shook his head and chuckled. Methos joined him with a smile of his own. "To someday." he toasted his friend, his glass held high.

Joe looked at him and nodded. Yes, there would be a someday for him and Amy, he felt it in his gut. Now that the secrets were out in the open, he had to believe.

Joe took a swallow from his glass then turned his thoughts away from his daughter to really look at Methos. He watched Methos over the rim of his glass. The ancient was back. For how long this time? And under what conditions? When he'd walked into the back room and found Methos hacking into the Watcher's database, Joe had been torn between conflicting emotions. On one hand there was the immense relief of finding the Immortal still alive, his head firmly atop his shoulders. On the other, Joe still held onto a deep anger caused by Methos' sudden abandonment before Richie's funeral. To keep his sanity, Joe's need to embrace his lover and let him know he'd been sorely missed had given way to the need to strike back for the hurt he had caused.

Methos saw the questioning look from Joe. "Joe? What?"

"Why'd you leave? Or maybe I should ask, why'd you come back?" Dawson unloaded.

Methos got to his feet. Taking his drink with him, he walked back to the bar. Setting the glass down, he leaned stiff armed against the ledge in front of him and looked down, unable or unwilling to speak. He had this coming.

Joe grabbed his cane and moved over to stand beside Methos, speaking low, but quite clearly showing the mood he was in. He was pissed. "Couldn't you have said goodbye? Or *later Joe*? Or *it's been fun*?" He laid his cane on the bar top and braced himself with one hand while he used the other to touch Methos, grabbing him behind the neck, forcing him to look him in the eye. "Why, Adam? Was I just not important enough of an interlude?"

"No, Joe," Methos protested. "It was nothing like that."

"So tell me what it was like," Joe demanded. He allowed his hand to drop from Methos' neck, but remained pressed close to the Immortal, not allowing him to back away, not allowing him to avoid the question.

But, avoiding the question apparently wasn't what Methos had in mind. He seemed determined to make Joe understand. "I couldn't risk a showdown with MacLeod. Whatever devils had him in their grip were forcing him toward that point. What would that have done to us, Joe? What would it have done to you? Whatever the outcome?" He paused a few seconds before continuing in a low, slow voice, carefully enunciating each word, "If MacLeod had taken my head, do you really believe you could have looked at him afterward? Been able to forgive him?"

Joe looked uncomfortable. He backed off just a bit, giving the Immortal some space.

Methos moved with him, "And if I had won? Would you have been able to keep our relationship as it was if I had taken his head?" Turning away, Methos grabbed up his drink and downed it in one swallow.

Joe continued to watch him for a full minute, then turning away himself, he put both his hands on the bar top, hanging his head. Why hadn't he seen it before? Methos never did anything without a reason, a plan. "You're right," he admitted. "Damn. But you could have told me," he argued, not looking at his companion.

"No, I couldn't have you between us, Joseph." They stood in silence another minute before Methos turned to Joe, "It's over, Joe. MacLeod has fought the demons and won...for now...but what about us? Are we over too?"

Joe closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "That's up to you. I'm the one who just tried to set you up, remember?"

"Oh, but you didn't set me up," Methos' relief evident in his voice, "I know you'd never be able to hurt me. *You* just didn't know it for a while." He ended his speech with a smile threatening the corners of his mouth. "Besides, I can read you like a book."

"Yeah?" Joe said with a grin. Then his voice took on a somber tone as he asked, "You going to stay a little longer this time?"

"As if you had to ask," Methos quipped.

"I'm asking."

"I'm staying," Methos whispered, leaning closer to the other man. He caught the side of Joe's face with his hand, using his thumb to test the softness of the gray beard.

"No running off to avoid evil? No more ex-lovers coming back to wreck havoc on mankind or corrupt young minds?" Joe knew he was pushing for more than Methos could probably give, but he wanted to know how far Methos was willing to commit.

Methos smiled, "Not that I know of. What about you? Any more ex-girlfriends coming back to rekindle old flames?"

Joe looked at him, he knew Methos was teasing and he teased back, "You just never know."

Methos leaned closer, took Joe's earlobe between his teeth and nipped it smartly before quickly leaning away.

"Hey!" Joe swatted at him playfully.

"Let's go to my place," Methos suggested, "Maurice can handle things here."

Joe gave him a long look before nodding his head in silent agreement, then picked up his cane from the bar top.

"I'll try to make it up to you, Joe," Methos whispered the promise as the two of them left to continue their reconciliation in private.

.o(O)o.

Joe was lying on his side in the silken sheets. Shadows shaded his face from the last of the Paris sunset coming through the huge windows. With no other furniture except the huge bed in the middle of the room, there was nothing to obstruct the harsh but fading light.

Methos watched as it glowed against Joe's sleeping form and listened to the mortal's soft breathing. He lay behind Joe, spooned chest to back, wrapped around him as close as he could get, gently caressing his chest, combing his fingers through the graying hair.

Joe spoke softly, "You couldn't have done it," he said as he turned back to look at his partner, "you wouldn't have gone into a fight with MacLeod to win."

Methos released a sigh of relief, "I thought you were asleep."

"I'm glad you're back."

Methos gave Joe a light kiss, brushing his lips across the mortal ones. "It's good to be back," he breathed. Even though they'd shared an intense sexual encounter after they'd arrived at the loft this afternoon, Joe felt himself responding. It was a testament to the powerful attraction he felt for the man in bed with him. "I know your recuperative powers are good but how do you explain mine?" he teased his lover.

"Its called abstinence. And you missed me," Methos continued to lay kisses along the side of Joe's neck, ending behind his ear, then captured his mouth with his. Exploring. Refreshing his memory of even the smallest details, details that made it a special joy to make love to this man.

Joe groaned, coming up for air, "God, Methos, did you do without for the whole time?"

"I couldn't find anyone else who plays the blues like a devil, sings like an angel, and makes my blood hot with a single glance," Methos purred as he continued to stroke the mortal's body, playing him just as Joe played one of his guitars. His goal the same as Joe's was with his music, to make him feel.

Joe was already on the edge, Methos making him as hot with his words as he did with his mouth. If Joe had any remaining doubts as to the Immortal's feelings about him, his admission of a self-imposed celibacy had taken them all away.

Methos continued to stroke down Joe's body, following the curve of his muscular backside, pressing between his legs, silently asking permission.

Joe moved back against the insistent hand, acknowledging the question and giving his answer. He started to roll over on his stomach, but Methos stopped him. "No. I want to watch you when you come," he breathed.

Joe nodded in agreement, still silent, his emotions close to overwhelming him.

Reaching into the drawer of the bedside table, Methos retrieved a small vial of oil. He grabbed one of the pillows and put it under Joe's lower back, then knelt between his legs and pulled Joe's thighs up to rest on top of his own, spreading him open, giving him total access to his lover's body.

Putting a bit of the oil on his fingers, he massaged it into Joe's anus. Then working one long finger up inside of him, he stroked the bump he found there until his lover moaned.

Joe murmured the start of a protest as Methos removed his finger, but quieted as he resumed his attentions, this time using two fingers to stretch and prepare him. The Immortal almost had to restrain his partner from bucking them both off the bed. Taking more of the oil into his other hand, Methos smeared it onto his own cock. Then bracing himself over Joe, he withdrew his fingers and eased himself into the hot tightness.

"Methos!" Joe called out as he tried to slow his reaction to the overwhelming sensation caused by his lover's entry. This was too much. All of his senses were being assaulted. He had to stop for a bit or it would be over way too soon and he didn't want this to end yet.

Methos understood and slowed to a stop for just a minute, allowing both of them to steady their breath. Then bracing himself with one arm, he reached between to catch Joe's seeping erection. Stroking slowly but firmly, from the base of the cock to the tip, then back down, he watched the effect his gentle assault had on Joe. His lover's eyes slowly turning a smoky gray.

Joe's tongue darted out to moisten his top lip as he reached up to wrap his fingers through Methos' hair, pulling him down for a kiss, mimicking with his tongue what Methos was doing to his body. Methos had again started to move in and out of Joe, matching the movement of his hand on Joe's cock, slowly at first then faster as Joe broke the kiss to press his head back into the pillow. Eyes closed, breathing harsh, he groaned his lover's name   
through clenched teeth, "Methos."

"Joe, look at me," Methos coaxed, "let me watch you."

Joe looked up at Methos as he kept stroking Joe's cock in time to his movements, steadily pumping into him. Methos watched the smoky eyes cloud further with passion as the mortal alternated between running his hands across the Immortal's chest, then clutching the sheets when the sensations overwhelmed him. Then he climaxed, shooting long, hot spurts of semen across Methos' hand and onto their bellies.

Never losing eye contact with his partner, Methos' own orgasm was right there spurred on by Joe's. He came deep inside the depths of his lover's body, then collapsed, allowing Joe to catch him and hold him tightly until the spasms stopped.

Methos gently withdrew, lying on the bed beside his mortal lover in the fast approaching darkness, "Wow."

Joe chuckled softly, his arm cushioning Methos' head, brushing his hand through the dark silk of the Immortal's hair, "Yeah."

They lay like that, wrapped together, until their breathing slowed to normal; the Paris night finally taking control outside the huge bank of windows.

o(O)o.

"Good morning," Methos announced cheerfully as he padded barefoot back to the bed carrying two cups of coffee. He'd already showered and dressed in loose sweats.

"Do you always have to be this cheery in the morning?" Joe grumbled as he pulled himself to a sitting position and took the coffee offered by his lover.

"Only when I have a good reason to be." Methos sat on the edge of the bed.

Joe sipped from the huge cup, testing, then swallowed a good third of the not-too-hot, and very necessary caffeine. Methos knew how to wake him up. "So what's your good reason?" Joe asked, "And please don't tell me it's some antique journal in an Italian library you need to chase down. You alone fill my quota of antiques."

"Tibetan actually," Methos answered, trying not to smile.

"Jerk," Joe shot back, knowing Methos would understand it for the endearment it was.

Joe sat back against the pillows, making room for Methos to sit cross-legged on the bed facing him. They still had some unanswered and unasked questions between them. "You gonna tell me where you were?" Joe asked.  
"Here and there," Methos parried then took a drink out of his cup.

"You said that before. That's not an answer."

Methos took another drink of his coffee, "I traveled a bit. Back in Tibet for a while. Other old haunts." He delayed answering yet again.

Joe laughed. "I'll bet," he said, giving up. If the man didn't want to tell him, he wouldn't try to force an answer. Not that he could. But, Methos surprised him by continuing.

"I even went to Seacouver a few times. Sat in the bar and got drunk. I missed you, Joe," Methos admitted. "I kept coming back through Paris, but MacLeod hadn't returned. It wasn't over."

"It's over now," Joe said, reaching out to cup Methos' face in his large hand, using his thumb to stroke the Immortal's cheek.

"Yes. For now."

.o(O)o.

Methos had some errands to run so he'd told Joe he would meet him at the bar. MacLeod was due back today and Joe figured Mac would come by the bar to fill him in on Claudia's concert.

Indeed, MacLeod and Joe were in the bar when Methos came sauntering in, hands buried deeply into his coat pockets, a smile of welcome on his face. "Good morning," Methos sang out.

"Morning," Joe returned, "it's only good _after_ noon." The bartender stood behind the bar as usual. Mac sat across from him on a stool.

"You old grouch," Methos accused.

MacLeod looked from one of his friends to the other, "Did I miss something?"

Joe explained, "I found him hacking into the Watchers' computer system two days ago, looking for info on an Immortal named Walker."

Methos glanced at Joe, he was startled at first. The tone of voice Joe was using had easily convinced MacLeod that he was angry. Almost convinced him too, then he figured out what Joe was doing. He'd caught the twinkle in his partner's eye. MacLeod baiting. This could be fun.

"Walker? Morgan Walker?" MacLeod asked.

"I wasn't hacking," Methos argued as he took off his coat. He threw the coat over a table then found a stool next to MacLeod at the bar. "I have my own way in. I helped design the system, you know." He turned toward MacLeod to answer his question, "Yeah, Morgan Walker. Did you know him?"

"Okay, okay," Joe admitted, "So he wasn't hacking. But, he was trespassing. He's not a Watcher anymore. We are not his private investigation company."

"*Did*?" MacLeod turned from one side to the other, trying to follow both conversations. "You fought someone?" he asked Methos.

"Any more coffee, Joe?" Methos asked.

"Down at the end of the bar," Joe indicated with a nod of his head.

"Methos?" MacLeod impatiently insisted on an answer.

Methos got off his stool and went behind the bar, grabbed a cup and helped himself at the coffeepot. "I just don't understand why everyone thinks I can't fight just because I don't like to."

"We had quite an adventure while you were gone," Joe explained to the Highlander. "Coffee?" Methos asked his two companions, holding up the pot.

"Yeah, I'll take a refill," Joe answered, setting his coffee cup on the bar top.

"What kind of an adventure?" MacLeod asked Joe, ignoring Methos.

"Walker tried to get me to set him up," Joe said, pointing at Methos. "Had my daughter as a hostage," Joe explained, matter of fact.

"Set up Methos? Your daughter, a hostage? What daughter?"

Joe got serious, "I have a daughter, Mac. She's fresh out of the Academy. A Watcher."

MacLeod was visibly confused.

Joe continued, "I didn't know she knew about me. Her mom kept a picture..."

Methos came back to his stool with his coffee, after refilling Joe's.

"I leave town for three days. And the whole world goes nuts." MacLeod sputtered as he threw his hands in the air. "Methos starts taking heads..."

"Just one, MacLeod," Methos reminded him.

"...and Joe gets a daughter."

"Actually, I've had a daughter for about thirty years," Joe pointed out.

Mac glared at each of them in turn, "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Joe admitted, smiling at the frustrated Scot. Methos grinned into his coffee cup. He loved to confuse the Highlander and he didn't get the chance to surprise him often.

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes, each with a silly grin on their face.

"Are you two...?" MacLeod asked.

"What, MacLeod?" Methos grinned.

"Yeah, we two have," Joe finished.

"Good," MacLeod said as he picked up his cup. "So, is there anything else I need to know?"

Joe looked at Methos, both of them trying not to laugh, "No, can't think of a thing," the barkeep managed to say with a straight face, then looked over Methos' shoulder as the front door opened. Amy.

"Joe, I don't have my assignment yet. Thought I'd stop by and say hi..." she paused, recognizing one of the men sitting at the bar as they both turned to greet her, "Hello, Doc."

"Amy," Methos acknowledged her with a nod and a smile.

"This is Duncan MacLeod," Joe introduced the person she didn't know.

"Duncan MacLeod," she repeated almost to herself, then turned to Joe, "your assignment?" Then as if realizing her rudeness, "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. MacLeod. Hello," she said.

Mac laughed, "That's okay. Call me Duncan," he told her as he stood.

Amy turned back to Joe, "Do you know where I'll be assigned?"

"No. I decided the best thing for me to do would be to stay out of it. Let you pick up the assignment that happens to come your way."

"Oh. Just thought I'd ask." She looked uneasy, fidgeting with her purse. "I think I'd better go," she told them as she walked backward to the front door. "Good to see you again, Doc. Nice to meet you, Duncan, Joe…" she waved goodbye, then turned around and left.

"Don't know if we'll ever be close, but she is my daughter," Joe shrugged.

"That she is," Methos mused. He'd noticed in the short time he'd spent with Amy that the resemblance between father and daughter went deeper than looks.

"Well, I've got an appointment," MacLeod said as he collected his coat and put it on. "How 'bout we continue this conversation at dinner? At the barge. I'll even cook."

Methos and Joe looked at each other, nodding in agreement, then Methos spoke for both of them, "Yes, we'll be there". Then, obviously not yet ready to give up his tormenting of the Highlander, he proceeded to bait MacLeod some more, "You're cooking? How? Joe says you stripped the barge and you don't even have the comforts of a tent. You have to admit you aren't the greatest of chefs even under the best conditions!"

MacLeod laughed as he walked toward the front door, "Don't press your luck, Methos. We still haven't worked out _our_ differences. Later, " he saluted them as he left.

Methos turned his attention back to Joe, "Amy seems to have recovered from her first Watcher experience," he ventured.

"Yeah," Joe agreed, but he still looked unhappy about her short visit.

Methos walked around to the backside of the bar. Standing close, he wrapped Joe up in a hug, "Things will be fine, Joe."

"Since when do you know so much about parenting?" Joe scoffed as he turned into Methos' embrace, hugging him back, then gave him a kiss.

"Joe, did I..." Amy stopped halfway through the door, watching as her father held and kissed another man. "Joe?"

They both turned toward her, noticing her sudden pallor. She wasn't going to take this well at all.

Methos unwrapped himself from Joe.

"I'll see you at dinner, Adam," Joe told his lover, letting Methos know he intended to take care of this alone.

Methos nodded then walked over to pick up his coat. "Excuse me," he told them, then after giving Joe a final glance, he left the bar.

.o(O)o.

"How'd it go?" Methos asked from his perch on one of MacLeod's bar stools as Joe came onto the barge.

Joe avoided meeting Methos' glance. Instead, he walked over to where MacLeod stood stirring a pot of sauce, "Smells good. Whatcha cooking?" he asked as he sniffed at the pot on the stovetop.

"Joe?" Methos asked again.

"She thinks I'm too close to my subjects," Joe told them with a shrug.

Methos caught MacLeod's concerned glance as he questioned Joe. "Too close as in 'My assignment occasionally makes me dinner?' or as in 'Doc and I occasionally slept together?'"

"Well, both. The second being the worse of the two," Joe admitted.

"I see," Methos said, nodding his head he closed his eyes. A grimace of pain crossed his face.

"Damn," MacLeod uttered.

"Do you think she'll come around?" Methos asked.

"I don't know. If I had to hazard a guess right now, I'd say no," Joe admitted.

"Damn!" It was Methos' turn to utter the curse.

Joe walked into the sitting area of the barge and sat in the large chair across from the couch. He was trying to buy some time. Each of his friends were good in their own way at "reading" him. Knowing MacLeod as he did, Joe would bet on the Scot's reaction. The Boy Scouts' over-protective nature and his overall opinion of the sanctity of family in general, would cause him to step back and separate himself from Joe for "his own good".

Methos was another story. Joe hadn't been able to hide his feelings about Amy from the eldest immortal. Methos knew how important Amy was to him. He was afraid that the old man would take a page from MacLeod's Boy Scout manual and leave as well.

MacLeod stepped away from the stove and poured a glass of red wine for Joe. Taking it to him, he asked, "How do you feel about this?"

Joe shook his head.

Neither of the two Immortals spoke. Mac went back to his cooking and Methos failed miserably in an attempt to look at ease.

"For thirty one years she's just been this part of me that I knew was out there but not really part of me. Then all of the sudden, here she is, a part of my life. All it took was her acknowledging I'm her father. Damn." Joe was rambling, openly sharing his thoughts aloud with the two of them. One thought not necessarily a continuation of the one before it. "Damn," he repeated, "it's all black and white to her. I don't live in black and white. I can't live in black and white."

"So what now?" MacLeod's questioned his Watcher.

"I don't know," Joe sighed, "except I refuse to make a choice."

Methos went over to Joe. Kneeling in front of his lover, he placed his hands on the tops on Joe's thighs, "Your daughter is important to you, Joe, I know that. You can't deny her and I won't make you choose between us. I wouldn't do that to you."

"Methos," Joe quietly explained, "I don't have to choose between the two of you. She did that for me, when she told me I had to make a choice."

Methos stood up as Joe's words sunk in. "Are you sure, Joe?"

"As sure as I ever was about anything," Joe explained as he reached out and caught Methos' hand.

"Dinner's ready," MacLeod announced.

.o(O)o.

After dinner, Methos lay sprawled on Duncan's couch, drinking his third or fourth, glass of wine and reading one of Duncan's books.

"Does he drink the wine because he's in Paris or does he drink the beer because he's not?" Joe quizzed MacLeod. The two of them were talking quietly, Joe sitting on the other end of the couch, MacLeod on the chair across the coffee table from him.

MacLeod laughed softly, shaking his head.

"I heard that," Methos told them as he closed the book and laid it on the table. He put his feet in Joe's lap, snuggling further down into the couch, stretching his arms up behind his head.

"Don't even think about it," Joe warned quietly, as he patted the sock-covered feet in his lap.

"Don't think about what?" Methos asked innocently, as he wiggled his toes, snuggling them intimately into Joe's groin.

"Methos," Joe growled.

"Okay, okay. I'll be good."

"You?" MacLeod commented with a snort from across the room as he poured himself more of the wine.

Methos bit back a retort, opting to toss one of the couch cushions at him instead. Snuggling down further into the soft leather of the oversized couch, Methos picked up the book again.

The book was just a guise, of course. His real focus of attention was Joe as he tried to ease some of the tension in his friend. On the pretense of getting more comfortable, Methos wiggled around on the sofa, again. "Accidentally" he moved his feet against Dawson's groin, again. He smiled behind the cover of his book as he heard the slight catch in Dawson's voice. MacLeod came back and sat down as they continued their conversation.

"Figured out what you're going to do, Joe?" Mac asked him again.

"Nothing, it's her call," Joe explained. "She has to accept me. I've already accepted her."

"But, she's your daughter, Joe. Family. That has to count for something."

"What is family, MacLeod, the definition of the word? What if the friends you've chosen mean more to you then the family you inherit? Is that a bad thing? Is blood more important than feelings? I know you, MacLeod. You believe that the clan, the family, is the whole world. Or at least it should be. Well, I argue that it is not. Friends earn your respect, your care and the right to your companionship. Families expect these things, even if they aren't deserved."

Joe paused a few seconds before he continued, "I was willing to give Amy what any father wants to be able to give their child -- love, friendship, support. But, I'm not willing to give it under the terms and conditions she set this afternoon. The two of you mean a lot to me. I'm just not willing to give that up."

"But, Joe…"

"No, MacLeod, I won't do it."

"Methos," Joe grumbled again, this time his voice more than just slightly annoyed with his lover's restless feet. Joe coughed, "Methos, we need to go."

"Why? I'm comfortable," he whined, wiggling his toes again, the picture of innocence.

Joe pushed the persistent Immortal's feet off his lap and grabbed his cane from the arm of the sofa where he'd hooked it earlier.

Methos grudgingly stood up as well. He drained the last of his glass of wine and replaced the book in the bookcase before slowly following Joe to the door.

"Night," Duncan called as they walked out, Joe pushing Methos through the door in front of him.

The door opened again and Methos stuck his head back inside. "Thanks for dinner, Mac," he said before disappearing again.

o(O)o.

Methos had a plan on the barge--distract Joe from his worries about Amy. Joe had seen right through it. Trouble was, it had worked well enough to keep him on edge all night. Now it was time to return the favor, Joe had a plan.

Methos and Joe barely got in the front door of loft before they started undressing each other, leaving a trail of clothes all the way to the bed. The last thing to come off was Joe's pants and legs but once freed of them, he slid back on the bed, pulling Methos with him. He'd had enough of the eldest Immortal's tormenting and he had every intention of paying him back.

Joe rolled Methos under him, kissing him until they were both breathless. He tugged at Methos' bottom lip with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth.

"Joseph," Methos gasped, breaking the kiss to take a deep breath.

"You've been driving me crazy all night. Now it's my turn," Joe informed his captive, gray eyes meeting green ones.

Methos didn't say a word. Instead, he leaned up to catch Joe's mouth again, silently urging him to act on his threat.

Joe didn't need Methos' sanction. He ended their kiss again to begin an assault on his lover's body. Using his teeth on the Immortal's neck, nipping sharply then soothing with his tongue, Joe worked his way downward, stopping to lick into the hollow at the base of his throat. Did he just imagine he felt the pounding of his lover's heartbeat there? He paused on his way down Methos' body, to give each dusky colored nipple equal time with bites and soothing kisses, then continued with nips down along his side. Meant to tickle as much as it aroused, it made Methos squirm. "Joseph!" he cried out, again, not a complaint, but a release of pent-up desire.

Joe reached out, took Methos' cock in his hand and began stroking. His thumb brushing over the tip, collecting the moisture to lubricate.

"Joe!" Methos groaned, catching Joe's hand in an effort to stop him or at least slow him down. But Joe was on a mission.

The mortal ignored Methos and took the weeping cock into his mouth, his tongue flicking across the tip before sucking his lover into the moist heat of his mouth, setting a steady rhythm. He didn't stop until Methos cried out again, raising his hips off the bed as he pumped his release into Joe's demanding mouth. Exhausted, Methos fell in a boneless heap on the bed.

Joe moved back up on the bed to lie beside Methos. Leaning over, he kissed the still breathless Immortal, softly on the lips.

"Not fair," Methos complained.

"That'll teach you to tease me all night," Joe taunted, smiling at his still recovering lover. He reached into the bedside table for the vial of lube that Methos kept there. He'd need it for what he was going to do next...

Methos recovered slowly. His breathing finally returning to normal, he opened his eyes to find Joe quietly watching him. He could feel Dawson's hardness brushing against his leg and the next thing he knew he was once again the center of Joe's attention. Joe's tongue dueling with his, allowing him a taste of himself, still lingering in his lover's mouth.

Joe flipped him over on his stomach, pulling both Methos' hands above his head. Anchoring them with his left one, Joe used his other to cup the underside of Methos' face, tilting him up to share another heady kiss before trailing his hand down his partner's back, massaging all the way, his fingers working in small languid circles. Then parting his partner's legs, he reached up underneath to massage the growing erection.

His partner's sensual lovemaking already making him as hot as he was before, Methos begged, "Joseph, please."

"Please what? Are you ready for me?" Joe teased the Immortal beneath him.

Methos moaned his response.

Joe gave up his teasing. He coated his own seeping erection with the oil, then massaged his liberally oiled fingers into Methos, preparing Methos for his entry, causing the Immortal to gasp as Joe stretched him, readying him for his size. Joe couldn't wait any longer. He spread Methos thighs wider, still holding his hands above his head with one hand, and settled between his legs, pushing his hardness into Methos slowly, letting him gradually   
adjust. Methos shifted back against Joe, trying to get him to move faster.

"Patience, Methos, we'll get there," Joe crooned in his ear.

But Methos was beyond that, he was already on the edge of climax. Again.

Joe stopped once he was fully inside. The heat from his partner's body was incredible. He breathed soft words of affection against his lover's ear, trying to prolong their passion.

After what seemed like an eternity, Joe began to move again. He released Methos' hands and fell over on the bed to lie on his side, pulling Methos with him. Using his left arm to cushion his lover's head, he reached to wrap a large callused hand around Methos' straining erection, massaging, matching the slow, steady movements of his own cock.

Joe was fast approaching his limit. This time when Methos tried to quicken the pace, Joe went with him, moving together to fulfill a need to be a part of each other if only for a small bit of time. As his lover shouted his release, his orgasm causing his muscles to spasm, Joe was caught in the tight clench surrounding the part of himself buried inside of his lover. As he followed Methos into the mutual, intense completion, he cried out in a raspy voice, "Methos!"

Allowing their bodies to separate, they lay for a while listening to each other's heavy breathing, trying to calm their racing hearts.

Joe pulled Methos over and into an embrace, kissing him on the forehead. Methos smiled at the show of tenderness. "*That's* what happens when you tease me all night," Joe scolded.

"Hmmm. I'll just have to do that more often," Methos countered.

They separated, Methos leaving the bed to collect a warm cloth to wipe down their bodies before returning to cuddle with Joe, falling into a peaceful sleep.

Joe lie awake, one thing still heavy on his mind. *Take Joe's mind off of his troubles*. Joe had seen it for what it was. The silliness on the couch at Duncan's had been an attempt by his lover to make him forget, at least for a while, the outside forces that pulled on their relationship.

Amy didn't understand what the Highlander's friendship meant to him. Or why this man curled next to him was so important to him. Maybe if she had been assigned someone like MacLeod or Methos, she would have eventually understood why sometimes, you did more than watch.

He ran a hand down his lover's back. He wouldn't give him up. Not after all they had been through and endured during the last few years.

Joe shook his head and began to caress lazy circles on Methos' back, enjoying the almost silky texture of his skin. Who was he kidding, he thought, Amy's biggest problem wasn't with the Immortals in his life, it was the fact that he happened to have chosen one, and a man to boot, to be involved with.

Thinking of Methos made him smile. What made the ancient one care for him in the way he did, Joe didn't have a clue. But he knew it was sincere, and the feelings were mutual. He absolutely refused to give up something so precious to him, not even for his daughter. Especially a daughter so rigid in her views about love. He couldn't let those views destroy what he and Methos had.

Wrapping his partner a little tighter, Joe joined him in sleep.

o(O)o.

An insistent noise jarred them from sleep and Methos automatically reached for his phone only to realize that the offensive sound was coming from Joe's cell phone. Looking around, he spotted Joe's jacket on the floor beside the front door. Stumbling out of bed, he wrestled the phone out of an inside pocket and answered as he carried it back to the bed, "Dawson's".

"I, um, is Joe there?"

Methos recognized the voice, "Hold on Amy, I'll get him." He covered the mouthpiece and shook Joe. "Joe, its Amy."

Joe opened his eyes, propped himself up on his elbow and took the offered phone. "Amy?"

Methos sat with legs crossed, on the bed in front of Joe, listening to Joe talk to his daughter.

"No, honey," Joe said as he watched the concern on Methos' face.

Joe listened in silence for a while then cleared his throat before giving a response, "It's a start." Finally, Joe said goodbye, switched off the phone and dropped it onto the pile of clothes on the floor next to the bed. He reached behind himself to plump his pillow then lie back down and closed his eyes. Leaving Methos still sitting in the middle of the bed, waiting for information about the other half of the conversation.

"Joe! What?" Methos questioned, curiosity definitely getting the better of him.

"She apologized for yesterday," Joe told his lover as he pulled the sheet up to his neck and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

"She what?" Methos asked, astounded.

"She still doesn't approve of my relationships but she at least isn't going to insist I make a choice," Joe smiled, looking at his partner.

Methos grinned then leaned over to kiss Joe, "As you said, it's a start."

Finis  
12.3.98


End file.
